The Agreement
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: Sherlock and John have *finally* sat down and come to an agreement that it makes the most sense all around if they become "involved." Unfortunately, John has already left for work when this happens. Sherlock doesn't notice. John is therefore caught completely by surprise when he comes home and Sherlock attempts to snog him.


There was something that Sherlock wanted... quite a lot. If he couldn't have it, he was rather certain that he would shrivel up and die. As things were going, it was only a matter of time until he actually expired.

Sherlock sat at the desk, typing on his laptop. His fingers paused, but just for a moment. Now was just as good a time as any, he thought. The detective kept typing, just to keep himself calm and began speaking, "John, it has been clear for quite some time that you are both physically and emotionally attracted to me." He gave John a brief amount of time in which to make his seemingly inevitable denials, but none came. Sherlock allowed himself a small smile of relief. "In light of your attraction to me, there is simply no point in continuing to seek out women that hold no long term appeal. Furthermore, they divert your focus from where it properly belongs, on me and on The Work." Sherlock gave another verbal pause then continued, "As I find you oddly compelling, I propose an arrangement. An agreement, if you will. We shall, from this point forward, engage in sexual relations. It will, of course be an exclusive relationship. This will free you to place all of your attention where it rightfully belongs. If you have any objections to this agreement, now is the time to speak." He waited and John raised no objections. Sherlock let out a long sigh of relief. He had got through that unscathed and without having to have a talk about sentiment. That had been more than he had dared to hope for.

All unawares, John climbed the seventeen steps to the flat. Fortunately the door was unlocked, as his arms were loaded with groceries, and he was spared the struggle with his keys. He managed to open the door, slipped into the flat and toed the door shut. No sooner had the door thunked closed, than John found his mouth under the full assault of one very enthusiastic consulting detective.

The first thing that happened was the groceries hit the floor. This was before John even realised that he was being snogged. Next the doctor's lips parted, almost of their own accord, and Sherlock's tongue plunged in. Finally, John's brain caught up and he shoved the detective so hard that he stumbled away and fell flat on his arse.

Before Sherlock could stutter out John's name in confusion, the doctor had turned and stomped up to his room and slammed the door. The detective's confusion was suddenly replaced with anger and he shouted up the stairwell, "What about our agreement?!"

John's door opened and be shouted down, "Which one?! The one where you don't poison me any more? How about the one where you measure my ear growth during my sleep?! Or, or, or, the one where you promise not to pluck my eyebrows and nose hairs in my sleep just so you can compare their different properties?!" His door slammed again, only to be opened a moment later. "I am not the subject matter for your bloody science experiments!" Just before the door slammed, he added sarcastically, "Ta! Very much!"

In the ringing silence, Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson's quiet "Oh dear" just before her own door closed softly.

John stood, hands fisted at his sides, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The man looking back at him was angry, confused, and very sexually frustrated. Wanting his unattainable flatmate was torture enough. Did the man really have to tease him with his oblivious mad scientist routine and associated experiments? Really this was too much!

Forcing himself to calmness, John opened his hands and wiped the sweat from his palms on his jeans. His mind was clearing and be suddenly realised what had happened: Sherlock had had a "discussion" with him while he was out of the flat. Again. John wondered, briefly, just what their supposed agreement entailed. He shook his head. It really didn't matter, Sherlock had to be taught a lesson and John had just the plan.

The detective was standing, dumbstruck, in the middle of the living room. He had actually been standing there for quite some time. His expression of confusion hadn't changed once as the seconds ticked by. That was how John found him when he had cooled off enough to enact his plan.

The doctor entered the living room, stepped around his flatmate, and went to the kitchen to make tea - one mug of tea. When he finished, he returned to the living room and sat in his chair without saying a word. With determination, he picked up his book and pretend to read. It took longer than John expected for his flatmate to approach him and start talking.

"John..." Sherlock began.

"It's all sorted. No need to revisit it. I think this agreement will work out just fine." The doctor was careful not to look up from his book and to keep his tone casual.

There was something off in John's demeanour, Sherlock could tell. In addition, the detective wasn't being kissed. "You pointed out earlier, that we've had several agreements. Just which one are you referring to?"

"The most recent one." John smiled. He couldn't resist adding, "Obviously."

Sherlock didn't trust this turn of events. Everyone thought of the detective as devious, scheming, downright Machiavellian, but John Watson had his moments. Sherlock suspected that this was one of them. He suppressed a growl. The doctor's intentions should be clearly transparent to the detective, but they were not. It was maddening. He would have to tread very carefully.

The next few days were a nightmare for Sherlock. He knew that he didn't dare make a wrong move, so instead, he tried not to do anything. He just waited. During that time, John didn't pester him to eat or sleep even once. Sherlock had had to resort to the A&E for the treatment of a minor cut. He knew that, if he had insisted on returning to the flat straightaway, that John would have relented and stitched him up, but he didn't want to push him. The worst thing was that Sherlock had had to make his own tea and, as a consequence, he had not brushed fingertips with his flatmate in seven days, fourteen hours and twenty seven minutes.

John returned late from the clinic one evening bearing food, Chinese, for the first time since the disastrous kiss. There was enough for two. He opened the boxes and settled them on the coffee table then sat next to Sherlock on the sofa. At the doctor's pointed look, the detective began eating. He wasn't about to risk antagonising John, not when the man was (hopefully) about to start taking care of him again.

After several minutes of silence, broken only by the sounds of eating, John spoke up, "You're really not going to ask, are you? You're just planning on tiptoeing around me, what, indefinitely?" John had dropped his chopsticks into the empty container and leaned back, waiting for a response.

Sherlock scowled at his food rather than answer.

"So, no deductions? No snarky comments?" The doctor sighed. "Right, then. What do you think's been going on this week?"

Stabbing at a wayward piece of beef, the detective gathered his thoughts. John expected a response. He had to give him one. "You were angry."

"Brilliant," the doctor said sarcastically. "Try again."

Sherlock really didn't want to have this conversation. "You were angry because I kissed you."

John wondered how the genius could have missed the point of the last week. "That's not it, exactly." Okay, he hadn't meant to say that last word. John decided to push on in the hopes that Sherlock wouldn't notice his slip up. "You can't keep having conversations with me when I'm not actually here and make agreements with me that I'm completely unaware of."

"Oh," Sherlock said softly.

"That's what I've been doing this week, you git!" John shouted. "Holding you to an agreement that you weren't there to make. You didn't even notice!" Pinching the bridge of his nose, the doctor continued, "It makes me feel as if you don't care about my feelings at all. You are the most observant man alive and you can't be bothered to notice if I'm in the flat or not. Try to think about how that makes me feel."

Sherlock said; "Oh" again then, after a pause, he added, "You entirely misinterpreted the cause of the symptom."

"And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?' John asked.

"I talk to you when you're not here because I always want you here. I don't like it when you're gone." Sherlock's reply was stated simply.

John's heart started beating faster at that, but he couldn't let himself get diverted, yet. "I appreciate that, more than you know, but you do see why it just doesn't work?"

The detective gave a reluctant nod.

"Right. In the future, when we talk about something of consequence, ask me point blank if I agree? If you don't get a verbal 'yes' or 'no', check to make sure that I'm actually present, yeah? If I'm not, wait and repeat the discussion when I get home."

Blushing furiously in embarrassment, Sherlock readily agreed. This meant that he would have to repeat the entire conversion that he had had... had not had with John one week ago. Sherlock groaned in frustration, then his mind homed in on what John had said earlier: That's not it, exactly. That was promising.

Now that they had had this discussion, John's curiosity was aroused. "Sherlock, just what was this agreement that we never actually made? I really don't see how kissing me applied to our latest case, so what kind of experiment were you conducting?"

The detective's breathing locked up. This was it. "It wasn't for an experiment or for a case. It was of a more personal nature."

John's palms were sweating and he was just feeling the beginnings of hope. "The kiss was personal?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied, looking away.

"It was meant to be more like this then..." John reached out and took Sherlock's chin then turned him back around. He pressed his lips to the detective's own and resumed where they had broken of the week prior. It was a long and sloppy kiss that left them both winded and aching for more.

Clearing his throat self-consciously, Sherlock husked out, "Yes. Just like that, John."

With a twinkle in his eye, the doctor spoke, "I would be agreeable to that, and somewhat more."

"Somewhat more?"

"Everything more."

Sherlock grinned genuinely, "To be clear, we are agreeing on kisses and... more. Exclusively?"

"Yes."

"You said 'yes' and you're in the room this time." Unfettered happiness was plain in the detective's voice.

John nodded and put their agreement into practice. Neither of them could have been more delighted.


End file.
